Matt didn't mind at all. While he didn't feel safe (a feeling that had been slowly gorund down to very little over the past month) he did feel more relaxed now. And tired in a way he could allow himself to be for once. No need to keep watch, stand guard, count the hours. He could just sink into the relative softness of the sofa and listen to Molly and Mohinder and just through their presence feel how the hollowness that had started settling somewhere in his chest was filled with something else.

So when Mohinder joined him and climbed on top of him, Matt locked eyes with him and wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him close, his other hand coming up to touch his face.

There were still small flecks of blood visible on the dark skin if you looked hard enough. Matt looked. He wanted to look, needed to look and really commit this face to memory, even now perfect in some ways because of the marks of distress.

"Good", he said, voice hoarse, and kissed him. Not particularly hard and nowhere near as hurried as back in the loft but close and deep and drawn out.